


Important Questions and Why We’re Called Humans

by horsesandrobotsandtimelordsohmy (orphan_account)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Comfort, Hope, Kind of a vent fic but to another fic, Love, Trigger warning - mentions of depression, Trigger warning - mentions of self harm, don’t give up, life is tough, please, you can do it!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-09 17:00:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14720055
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/horsesandrobotsandtimelordsohmy
Summary: You are loved.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alialialialiali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alialialialiali/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Hate](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613814) by [alialialialiali](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alialialialiali/pseuds/alialialialiali). 



 Guess what?

You’ve been loved since the day you were born. Yes, even you. It might not seem like it, especially now, when you think your life couldn’t get any worse, but trust me. People care. 

Guess what? 

As you sit here, maybe your heart broken or about to break, weighed down by a massive list of responsibilities or fears—everybody’s got ‘em— know that this work is written for you.

Guess what? 

No one’s perfect. Shocker, I know. From the way the world runs, it seems a necessary state of existence.

Think you’re too broken to be fixed? 

People make beautiful art out of broken things, you know. Pottery that shines in the sun from a thousand different surfaces because pieces have been put back together to _form a whole_ ; furniture that’s chipped and broken gleams and _tells a story_ because of the scars; you, broken, hurt, scared and scarred too deep to even imagine the possibility of repair. 

And who knows? 

You might not even be broken. What you see as your worst flaws someone sees as your best qualities. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. And yes, I did just quote an over-quoted quote, but sometimes, that’s what it takes. 

So guess what?

You. Are. Loved. 

Don't believe me?

Ask everybody in your life. If you can’t get ahold of someone just right now, know that I do. Even if the whole world is against you, I’ll be at your side, ready to fight them for you while you recover.

 Did you know that?

It’s important. If there was a list of the most kindhearted people in the _universe,_ you would be at the top. No doubts about it.

 Others know it too. 

They care. This author cares. So much so, in fact, that they would be willing to step in front of a bus to make it so there are more beautiful people in this world and to make sure that it stays that way. 

You know something?

Fear might be lying to you — there is no if, actually. Fear _is_ lying to you. It spreads like a poison and when it blossoms it smells like self-hate. Other people can help weed it out, you know.

There’s this thing called trust.

When people are vulnerable, sometimes they trust each other. And trust kills fear. Sprays it with weed killer before it can take root. Especially in the stone that is your facade.  

Humans don’t normally break, do they?

No. But stones do. That rock solid facade will crack someday and you’ll be left picking up the pieces. 

No worries, though. 

 

 

 

 

 

So hang hang on a second, if you’ve made it down here. Pause and think for a second. Think about what people mean to you. Whether it’s a funky laugh, gentle hugs, people have qualities that endear them to you, right? And now think back. It’s pretty safe to assume that no one could hate you, dear reader. Not with the things that are special about you. And if no one else can hate you...

don’t supply your own. 


	2. Continued

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I forgot to add this at the end of the first chapter, so I’m adding it here.  
> I have struggled with anxiety and some depression for the last year. I know it’s not the same for everyone, and I don’t assume to know what anyone is going through. I’m speaking from the bottom of my heart as I write this. I’m sorry if I offend anyone or write something that hurts someone. Please, speak up and let me know if I did. It is important to me that as I write hope for one person, it doesn’t crush the other.

Hey, guess what? 

This author’s back. 

Time to talk about lying, reader. And hiding things.

Remember when Mom and Dad told you don’t lie? Don’t hide things from other people?

You’re doing it right now. 

Telling yourself no one needs to know about how you struggle to get up each day, or how you struggle to fall asleep. Shrugging off exhaustion and overwhelming emotions and numbing heartbreak as “I’m just tired.” Telling no one about how those scratches on your arms aren’t from your dog, you’ve just been so clever about hurting yourself that no one can tell the difference. The only thing that’s different about theses scars is that they’re permanent. 

Think you aren’t clever?

Sometimes, we’re too smart for our own good. We tell ourselves that if we are broken then we can’t help the other broken people in our lives. They need someone strong to depend on, not this mangled monster that’s hiding behind the façade of a strong soul. So we let it out the other way.

Better it hurts us than somebody else, right?

Those lines are portals to the inside of your soul. Not your eyes, because eyes can lie. People can smile with their eyes or glare daggers with their eyes and not mean any of it. 

So here’s a question: why do you do it? 

And yes, you do it because of the above, or you do it because you are crumbling and the only way to rid yourself of the guilt is that, or it’s the only thing that alleviates the pain, or for another reason, but think deep. 

Who told you that you needed to be there for them? Who told you you needed to be perfect?

Because I'm guessing no one did. I do the same thing, assume that things are my responsibility when they really _aren’t. It hurts,_ you know, to feel you’ve failed someone who didn’t even know you were doing something for them. But. Think about why you chose to do this particular thing for this particular person. Maybe, just maybe, it’s because you care about them, even deep down  **love them**. And maybe, in some wild, unexpected, thrilling turn of events, you’ll find out that shockingly _they love you too._

And if someone did tell you you need to be perfect, shame. on. them. They are a walking hypocrite. You can try. But it’s better to shoot for being good, and kind, and as loving as you in all your broken glory can be because _soon enough, you’ll meet someone who’s as shattered as you are._  And together, you’ll be even more beautiful than you are on your own.

And if the way you feel, day in and day out, has no reason, it has no explanation, it has no root or cause or source, don’t stress about it. This is a battle. Sometimes it’s hard to know why you’re fighting. It’s hard to know where that fine line of being the healer and being the hurt is. 

You know something? 

The word battle has an even number of letters. So does love. And hope. 

Alone does not. It has a fifth letter, the perpetual odd man out. You. 

Don't be alone. 

And you might be thinking, “Hate has four letters too though!”

And you’re right. But the most important thing about even numbers, they can always be divided by two. So that means even if others hate you, or if you hate yourself, you’ll always have a teammate. Or two. Or three. No matter the number, they’ll always be there for you.

So here’s the catch, reader. 

What about the letter I?

It’s an odd letter. It’s not in a word with other letters to give you hope. 

But I is a dangerous letter. It can look like a knife, and it cuts deep. It _hurts._  That’s why the little “i” is broken, because the world knows just how dangerous the big I is. 

So what does this author hope you’ll do?

Ask around. Find your teammates and hold onto them for dear life. Don’t worry about being clingy, because on this rocky as all hell mountain of life, you need a strong grip to stay alive.


	3. don't sneak up on me like that

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It takes a lot to see anything coming. Even the good times.

When I first realized I had anxiety, it was when I was 16. I was stressing over a deadline that was fast approaching combined with what seemed like a massive (and impossible to complete) amount of work.

I had never had an anxiety attack in the past.

The most nervous I got was when I was going on plane trips to see faraway family, and that was from sheer excitement.

I never suspected I had anxiety.

But a massive panic attack left me on the edge of passing out, shaking, nauseous, and unable to move any body parts above my waist, with no more warning than a ringing in my ears and a narrowing of my vision. 

Anxiety sneaks up like a puma. Massive claws for digging in deep and holding on, a throaty roar of blood rushing in your ears, narrowed pupils that restrict your sight, the breathlessness of being hunted by an unknown predator. It’s unpredictable, unexpected, terrifying, and as unwelcome as a hornet in a beehive.

Needless to say, I did not get all my work done that night. 

Needless to say, I still don’t know when anxiety will hit. Whether in panic attack mode or in the form of a serious self-doubt issue, it’s a wild ride. Some days I feel like I can (and do) conquer the world. Others, I clamp shut because I’m afraid of people finding out just how terrified I am of being afraid.

 

 

Depression was different. 

It settled in when I was 14, but I thought I was just tired, and that’s how I shrugged my lack of interest in anything, even the things I used to love, away. I figured that I was just under the weather, or not getting enough sleep, or I was bored. For two years.

I didn’t realize I had depression until I took a health class in the fall of my junior year in high school. I was 16 then, 6 months before anxiety reared its ugly head. 

I had locked away how I felt for so long that it took an entire month of talking about depression and anxiety for me to realize that there was a name for how I had felt for the past two years. The d word. It was always there, whether minor or major or clinical or otherwise. 

I was scared. How could I be depressed? I’m fun-loving Ellie! I can’t be sad. I have to be supportive, the solid one. I can’t have personal issues. How can my friends lean on a broken crutch?

And so it went. 

I shut all my emotions away for 6 months. When I realized that only having the feeling of stress was near-fatal. When I realized that even if I wasn’t happy it didn’t mean I couldn’t support others.

but I still shut my own hurt away. 

I never looked to self-harm for peace, but there were nights that I almost choked on my own tears. Silently almost dying but not quite because that would be too easy, wouldn’t it. 

I’ve only ever told two people that “I’m just tired” is code for “I’m lost, I don’t know what to do but I don’t want to burden someone else with my problems.”

 

 

 

and it’s torn me apart.

 

so please, don’t hide depression. Anxiety either. People won’t know how to help you if they don’t know what’s wrong.


	4. let me sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Venting is good for the mind. At least I really hope so.

There’s this thing called “the tipping point.”

for some people it’s when they become stressed or irritated beyond what they can take and then 

_they snap_

_like a dried out rubber band that’s been stretched too far._

_And someone might get hurt._

For others, the tipping point is less of a point, a peak, and more of a cliff.

We’ve plateaued for so long, maybe climbed a mountain or scaled the sides of a valley —

but when we hit an edge, that’s _our_ tipping point. 

Sometimes we keep going because there’s nothing holding us back 

_and I don’t mean that in a good way._

and sometimes we stop at the edge. 

_Wracked by the guilt that we would feel if we kept going._

Sometimes we stop because we are held back by a pair of loving arms, someone from our team.

_Sometimes we keep going but halfway down_

_someone throws a hook and grabs us, pulling us back_

_to a place where we aren’t sure we belong._

 

 

_They oughta put nets on the edges of tipping points._

_someone might_ get hurt.


	5. I’m so scared

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter has mentions of religion? I will add a tag for people who don’t like reading this kind of stuff but I will not tolerate hate about my beliefs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... I’m terrified of anything new (shocker I know) and that rolled together with anxiety is not a good combination.

I’m terrified.

_I shouldn’t be._

School is over. 

_I should relax._

All I have to do is work.

_It shouldn’t be this hard._

_just go in, do your job._

_It's not that hard._

 

 

But I’m scared, oh _so scared,_ of the future. 

_Trying to plan my life just even the tiniest bit_

I’m floundering and lost and no one can help me.

 

 

Day after day. 

Wake up.

Go to work. 

Come home.

Relax.

Go to bed. 

It’s a simple routine.

_It shouldn’t be hard._

 

 

_But I’m terrified. Tired of my job that I used to love but I can’t leave because who would do the little things that I do, the things that no one else does because I'm okay with being there late if it means no one else is._

_Like cleaning the places that no one else does on the weekends. So that our boss doesn’t get mad._

 

_I know I shouldn’t be so scared. I’m sorry_

_sorry sorry_ **sorry sorry please forgive me.**

I know I should trust God. I have in the past and everything has _fallen into place and not_ pieces.

 

_My parents try to give advice and I **want** to follow it because if I don’t I won’t be a **good daughter** and so what if it’s not healthy I’d rather die trying to please the people I love than do my own thing and be reasonably not sad. _

_But I’m so afraid to try. Because if I do die trying then I’ll have disappointed them and I **really really really don’t want to do that.**_

_**Because I’m afraid of what will happen if I do.** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes, I know. It’s not healthy to have an attitude like this (or so I’m told and I believe it because I don’t want to hurt the person who told me.) 
> 
> Also please know this all stems from inside, I was not abused in any way, shape, or form. 
> 
> I’m just paranoid! *bright smile*

**Author's Note:**

> Please. Don’t give up. There are too many people whom it would break to not have you in their lives.


End file.
